Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for a crazy mind.
A/N: I'd like to start off by saying I am so sorry for the delayed update! I've had a lot on, and this was hard for me to write. Though it took me a while, originally this was ready about a week ago; however I just haven't had a moment to sit down long enough to post this. Anyway, thank you for all the reviews and support and here's the next chapter! It's a bit short, I know, but this is just a lead-up. It's a bit darker than usual, but the rating shouldn't be affected by it. I've already started the next chapter, so there may be another post later on tonight if I get the chance (: As always, let me know what you think! (:
It began slowly. First, there was the faint tinkling noise; it reminded Lexie of Christmas bells. The noise continued for a while, and Lexie wondered what it was. It sounded like metal against metal, light tapping, and…Bells. Lexie heard the soft jingling of bells but as she concentrated on the noise, she knew she was going crazy. There was a sudden scraping noise and it sounded as if it was coming from some type of tool. There were no bells, Lexie was just going crazy.
Soon enough the noise stopped and it was followed by nothing. Now, all she could hear in the long period that followed was the sound of her heartbeat and heavy breathing. Nothing happened and Lexie looked at the bathroom door nervously. What was he doing? What was going through his mind? No. She didn't want to think about it, the thoughts that usually went through his mind would frighten her, disgust her. It wasn't safe to try to get into the mind of an abuser.
The silence continued and gradually, Lexie found herself relax. He had left, probably to find another tool. Lexie's eyes drifted to the side, narrowing at the razor sitting beside the sink. He would get in here, eventually. It was only a matter of time and when he did, she needed to be prepared. Ready. She wasn't prepared to lose this time.
He wouldn't hurt her.
He would not win.
Lexie let out a breath and stood from her seat on the edge of the bathtub. Her sore muscles stretched and she tried not to flinch as she slowly made her way over to the sink. The light glinted off the metal and it made Lexie pause. Would she do this? When it came down to it, when the moment presented itself to her–with Thatcher in the room with her, prone and dangerous–would she really hurt him? Would she lash out and cut him? Would she watch the blood trail down his face and not react, stand there and watch him bleed without trying to save him?
She was a doctor. She saved lives, how could she purposely inflict pain on someone?
As the sight of the metal kept her fixated, Lexie didn't catch the noise of hammering on the wood, until the noise become louder. Her head turned to look at the bathroom door and as the pounding became louder, Lexie grabbed her razor, her grip on the small object turning her knuckles white. Her heart leaped into her throat and Lexie flinched at every bang on the door. It was as if her mind was in a trance as she stared at the door but soon she snapped out of it, a loud bang–louder than all the rest–causing her to yelp and turn away from the door.
With her chest heaving, Lexie stared at her image in the mirror. Pale face, red eyes, haunted with fear. Lexie looked away, her eyes going back to the razor blade. Suddenly, she began slamming the razor down on the countertop, her thoughts willing the blade to break free. The noise inside the bathroom was nearly as loud as the noise coming from the other side of the door, and briefly Lexie wondered if Thatcher had figured out what she was doing. The thought drifted into her mind and then was quickly eliminated when the silver metal bounced away from the orange plastic.
Lexie's fingers dropped the razor and scrambled to touch the blade. The metal was cool against her fingers and it made Lexie pause. Smooth, cold, dangerous. Could she really use this to get away from Thatcher? Could this save her? Would this make her a criminal? She couldn't hurt someone, it wasn't allowed, it was against the rules. But did the rules stay the same when someone was threatening your safety? Your life?
The sound of wood hitting the cold tiles stopped Lexie's thoughts. Her blood ran cold as she slowly turned her face to see him. His nostrils flared as he took a step closer, the hammer he had used to crack the lock dangling from his hand.
"Lexie..." He said, his voice gruff and solid. His eyes burned violently as he snarled at her. "Why would you want to run from me?"
This was the moment.
Their showdown.
The end.
Lexie knew this was the part where she was supposed to do something. Anything. She was supposed to shout at him, tell him that he couldn't control her. She needed to tell him that she was stronger than he thought and that she would fight back. She would try and save herself.
This was the moment where she would stand up straight, her shoulders back, her head high, and she would push past him – she would stand up for herself. She would fight. She would not go down without a fight.
The moment had arrived. It had taken them an eternity, but here it was. He was standing before her, his legs apart, his stance solid. Lexie knew he was sober; his eyes were red however there was a distinctive strength behind his words and being. No wavering. No slurring. He was sober and if Lexie didn't make her way out now, he was going to hurt her.
Carefully, Lexie wrapped her hand around the small blade in her hand and brought her arm down against her side. Her face matched Thatcher's stoic expression and although it took her a moment to regain her voice, Lexie soon spoke calmly, despite the feeling of the blade slowly slipping deeper into the skin of her palm.
"I'm not running from you," Lexie told him. Her eyes were cold as she continued. "I want to run from you, but I'm not. I'm here, aren't I? I'm not going anywhere."
Her response caused Thatcher to pause, his eyes narrowing at her slightly. His eyes suddenly fluttered to her clenched hand. A small smirk formed on his cracked lips. "Getting ready to punch me, princess?"
Princess.
A simple word that immediately took her back to her childhood. He would call her princess when he tucked her in at night. He would call her princess when he congratulated or when he comforted her. Now, the word meant nothing. It didn't show his love for her, it wasn't a word of affection – no, it was said mockingly. It reminded her of him and his disgusting actions.
Lexie's spine straightened as she pushed her shoulders back. "Unlike you, I don't resort to violence."
Although it didn't show on her face, Lexie felt pride swell inside of her. She hadn't stuttered, she hadn't shown her fear – she could do this. Her toes curled against the tiled surface of her bathroom and Lexie glanced at the hammer Thatcher was holding. Instantly her mind scanned each little detail. The dull metal, the pale golden brown wood, the grooves in the wood, his thick fingers wrapped around the mid-section of the hammer – each detail jumped out to Lexie. This object, after all, would be burned into her memory for years to come.
Slowly, Lexie tore her sight away from the hammer and looked at Thatcher, her eyes remaining steady on his. Briefly she considered talking but then halted when she saw his jaw twitch. It was discreet, if she had blinked she would have missed it, but Lexie didn't and she knew what it meant. Subtle movements like a twitch or an eye flutter, they all totalled up, each movement gave something away. Lexie knew how to read him; it was how she prepared herself. A jaw twitch meant he was thinking, usually carefully, over what to do next. Sometimes he would act irrationally, spontaneously, but other times–like now–he would take the time to concoct a plan.
That was when he was most dangerous.
The low rumble of his voice made Lexie clench her fist, and although the pressure was still light, the blade in her hand cut her deeper and she winced at the feel of her own blood pooling around the cut. She needed to get rid of the blade. Somehow.
"I'm violent?" Thatcher said, his words stressed and mocking. "I'm violent?" His coarse voice suddenly got louder, his shout echoing in the small bathroom. "I'm violent?" His manic laugh made Lexie wince. "I'm not violent. This...That was nothing. That wasn't violence. You wanna know what real violence feels like, princess? Huh, you wanna know?"
Lexie's eyes fluttered slightly as she replied, "No."
He laughed again, louder than the last time. He brought his hand up, the hammer now pointing at Lexie. "Oh come on. You're dying to know. If you think I'm violent now...You're such a stupid little girl. Stupid, stupid, stupid."
The hammer dangerously waved at Lexie, the head nodding at her face. She tried to keep her eyes fixed on Thatcher's face but she couldn't help avert her sight to the tool in front of her. He wouldn't use it. He wouldn't do it. She knew he wouldn't. He couldn't.
Even as Thatcher stepped closer to Lexie, she didn't move away. She was fixed in place, staring at the metal head. He couldn't. He isn't going to do it. It was getting closer, still waving to each side in front of her, but it was gaining on her.
Coming closer.
And closer.
And closer.
Before she knew what was happening, Lexie felt herself duck. There was a noise, a whoosh of air, and a loud shout. It was as if Lexie had no control over her body. Instinct. It felt as if she wasn't responsible for her own actions. She was watching. She was only a spectator.
One moment she was crouched on the floor, the razor in her hand changing position – slipping into her skin, causing her to let out a curse. Then, the next moment, before she had the chance to register what was happening, her outstretched arm came into contact with Thatcher's knees and she was pushing forward. She felt him stumble against her arm and Lexie felt herself stand up further on her unsteady legs. She felt the pressure being removed from her arm and she looked back to see Thatcher on his hands and knees on the floor, the hammer out of his grip.
It was then that Lexie snapped into focus.
She stood up straight and unclenched her hand. The blood was fresh and red against her pale skin. Without much thought, Lexie dropped the blade to the floor and ran forward, her aim being the hammer on the floor. As she made her way to the object, Lexie purposely stepped on Thatcher's hand. His shout made her jump and quicken her actions. Grabbing the hammer, Lexie turned on her heel and ran towards the door.
"Bitch!" She heard Thatcher shout as she made her way out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. "Lexie!" With her back against the door, Lexie tried to regain her breath. She looked down at the hammer limp in her hand and saw the blood splattered along the wooden handle.
In the distance, she heard Thatcher panting and she assumed he was struggling to get up from his knees. The lock. Lexie's eyes widened as she realized there was no outside lock on her bathroom door. At any moment he would be pushing the door and she would be thrown out of the way. He was going to get her. He was going to hurt her. Kill her.
Frantically, Lexie's eyes scanned the room. Her desk chair. Her desk. Running towards the wooden desk, Lexie dropped the hammer onto her bed and wiped her bloody hand against the leg of her pants. Somehow, she found the strength to pull the desk towards her. Looking back at the door, Lexie struggled as she tried to pull the desk with her small hands. Her open wound screamed as it contacted with the sharp edge of the desk.
Grunting, Lexie silently begged for this to work. When the desk hadn't moved as far as she wanted, Lexie quickly gave up and rushed over to the chair. Dragging it to the door, Lexie pushed it up underneath the doorknob. Then, after hearing Thatcher calling her name, Lexie spotted the small cabinet that sat next to her bed. Lifting it up, Lexie firmly placed it against the bathroom door, next to the chair.
Stepping back, Lexie stared at the door, her eyes wide with nerves and shock. At the back of her mind, she heard a voice telling her it wouldn't work. He would find a way to get out. He would find another way to hurt her. As she stared at the door, she felt the slow trickle of her own blood slipping down her palm. The image of the razor blade fluttered into her mind and Lexie wondered if he knew it was lying on the bathroom floor. She wondered if he would notice and pick it up. If he would use it against her.
She would be defenceless to the piece of metal.
Hammer.
Lexie quickly turned around to see the forgotten hammer lying on her bed. The bright red handle blinded her and quickly Lexie moved to get it. Her back was turned as she picked up the heavy tool, using both hands to lighten the pressure on her injured hand.
"Lexie!"
Lexie screamed as she heard her name and she spun around expecting to see her father standing in the doorway, the pieces of furniture discarded on the side. He wasn't there. In fact, he was shouting at her from his position inside the bathroom. He just sounded closer than he really was.
"Lexie!" He screamed, his fists pounding against the wood. "Let me out!"
"No!" Lexie shouted back, her grip tightening on the hammer. She brought it up against her chest and stared at the door. "You can't do this. Y-You won't win. I won't let you!"
The doorknob twisted and Lexie watched as Thatcher tried to push the door open but couldn't. He banged against the wood again. "Lexie! You can't do this to me! I'm your father. Let me in now!"
Before she could stop herself, the words sprouted out of her mouth. "Fuck off! I'm not letting you anywhere near me you sick bastard! You're not allowed to do this. I won't let you hurt me. I won't let you win. You can't do this to me! I'm better than you, I'm stronger than you. If you come out here, I'll hurt you, I swear to God I'll hurt you! So, so just shut up! Stop talking, stop trying to hurt me, just stop it you, you bastard!"
The noise of him turning the handle and pushing against the door increased and Lexie took a step back, her hands shaking. "Stop it!" She shouted as she saw the cabinet move slightly, the door cracking open. "Stop it or I'll hurt you. I'll hurt you!"
The cabinet moved closer to her, further away from the wooden door. She could see the white tiles. The chair was wobbling. The sound of him grunting. The sound getting louder and louder as he repeatedly slammed his shoulders against the door.
Suddenly, fear gripped Lexie and she began screaming. "Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it! Please, just stop this! If you come in here I'll kill you! I swear to God I'll kill you!"
It was then that the door burst open.
The chair fell away, the cabinet pushed to one side, Thatcher standing in the door way, his chest heaving, his eyes gleaming.
His eyes narrowed at the hammer in her shaking grip and he cracked a smile. "You'll kill me, will you?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Suddenly, his eyes snapped to Lexie's and his smile widened as he whispered, "I'd like to see you try."